Murder and Thieves
by lonelyxromance
Summary: Welcome to Las Noches Mental Facility, where you're sure to find all kinds of freaks, wacko's, and all around insanity. I was sent here for the murder of my father, of course that was all they knew about. I would have rather been sent to prison. Ongoing
1. Chapter 1

This is, in fact, a shounen ai, or yaoi, or whatever. If you really try, (stand far away, tilt your head, and squint a lil) you can think of it as reeeeeally good friends. Good luck with that.

T for mentions of rape, murder, swearing, and light horror.

I have no plans on making it very long, maybe three or four chapters.

_Murders and Thieves_

Prologue

The first time I killed someone was six days after my fourteenth birthday. I was young, and stupid. In all honesty, though I would brag the whole two years I was in juvvie, it was a complete accident. All I could remember was the walk home, thinking that my mom was sure as hell gonna kill me this time for coming home at three in the morning. The smell, it was _awful._ Like three weeks of body odor, alcohol, and cheep cigarettes. The sound of his gruff voice, threatening, trying to get money out of me that, judging by my ragged jeans and hand-me-down shirt, I clearly didn't have.

And the feel of cold metal against my neck.

But mostly the fear.

I was terrified, I couldn't get enough air. My mind told me to run, but my body wouldn't listen. I was helpless, at some schizo's mercy. If it mattered, I wouldn't tell you I cried. I did the first thing that came to mind. Panicked, I threw an elbow into his stomach and tried to wrench myself free. It would have worked, if I were a little older. I saw his knife glint, and prayed for the last time in my life. I knew I was dead, I knew I wouldn't be fast enough. Half-thoughts flickered through my mind. I wouldn't be able to finish that video game I'd started a while back. I still owed that runt Luppi a rematch at the basketball court, even though I know he'd never beat me. At least my mom wouldn't be mad at me for being late.

I felt pain - or rather, I knew I would if my adrenalin weren't so high - but it was in the wrong spot. It was far from a clean cut, the knife must have been rusty or old. Maybe both. I still have the scar, a jagged white line on the right side, four inches long from ear to chin.

From that moment on, everything was a blur. I remember struggling, punching and screaming and flailing. And then falling. And then silence. As the numbness wore off, I wished it never had. I laid face down on the concrete, something warm and wet trickling down and off my neck. At some point, my hand had reached out and grabbed his, trying to keep it as far away from myself as possible.

I knew what his held, underneath mine. I knew what the rest of it looked like, only that part had disappeared. Did it break? The part of my brain that had any sense was screaming at me. I fought it desperately, but I couldn't ignore it.

Blood trickled from the wound behind our combined fist above my right ear.

The other half of the knife was buried in his neck.

That night, my mom met me at the door, demanding to know why I was out so late, where the blood came from, how I was going to explain to my father. After gaining a few more bruises and a complete understanding of the phrase, "adding insult to injury," I showered for an unnecessary amount of time. I took all of the cloths I was wearing and shoved them into a plastic garbage bag, planning on burning them as soon as I had the chance.

The news announced his murder the next morning.

My mother never asked any questions.

A year later, she left.

A year after that, they found me with my father's blood on my hands.

And now, two years later and a month before my eighteenth birthday, I finally had my court order. I was still a minor, so they were reluctant to send me to a prison to begin with. On top of that, my lawyer pushed legal insanity, using my silence as another of my "symptoms." It passed, and here I am. Las Noches Mental Facility, where you're sure to find all kinds of freaks, wacko's, and all around insanity.

I would have rather been sent to prison.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am a comma whore.**

My first thought was that they'd brought a girl here. It wasn't that much of a shock, but I'd never seen a girl around this place other than visitors so I'd assumed that this wasn't a co-ed type of crazy house. 'Course, all I saw at that point was his back. Black, longish hair and almost too thin. He, who at the time I thought was a she, stood with his back ridged, hands in pockets, like he had no reason to be here. I laughed, purely black humor, and continued on to my room.

I say room, but all it held were four walls, a window, and a sorry excuse for a bed. I had no belongings, no pictures no knick-knacks, none of that. Nothing that I wanted to keep anyway. With no other family, I assume my old shit was sent to Goodwill or something. I was better off without it anyway. I didn't need anything. Pointless things were kept for memories, and I didn't want to remember.

Even without any shit, I spent most of my time there in my "room." Most of my fellow occupants tended to enjoy pissing me off, which didn't look good to the people that could get me the hell out.

I flopped on the bed, ready to wait out the two hours before lock down. Only seconds later though, I heard one of the nurse's voices escorting our newest tenant to her room, and sat up. I was curious, like always, as to why these people were here. In most cases the reason was pretty obvious during the first conversation, like with Szayel who was something of a mad scientist. I didn't want to know about his background story, or how he ended up in the crazy house. Sometimes you're better left ignorant.

Every once in a while though, you'd see someone who seemed completely normal, at least for a while anyway. It took me a week to find out Aizen's problem. Sure, the creepy smile and the way he never seemed to get annoyed was a little weird, but _weird_ wasn't something you got put in here for. No, Aizen and his "gang" were just as mad as anyone else here, but they were also closer to what I was than anyone.

Murderers.

Aizen had some kind of god complex, talked down to everyone and treated them like some kind of slave army. The shrinks at group therapy called it "Narcissism," I just called it "Being a Dick."

Tosen was committed to some kind of sick justice, like a priest that kills to "save" people. I didn't know if he'd always been that way and meeting Aizen was just by chance, or if it happened after.

And Gin, he was one of those that I'd rather not know about. Again, better left ignorant.

For all my faults, I was a pretty good judge of character. The second I walked through the door for the first time, I knew Stark was someone I could deal with, I knew Yammy was an idiot, and that Nnoitra was an ass.

In the split second that this one walked by my door though, her profile mostly covered from her hair, for the second time that day I wasn't sure of anything about them. The first word that came to mind was "unreadable," and then, "un_reach_able."

I thought about getting up, getting a better look, but decided against it. We would meet soon enough.

I heard the nurse mumble something like "Let us know if you need anything," and the door next to mine slammed shut behind her.

_Number four,_ I thought. _Welcome to hell, neighbor. _

I didn't see her for two days after that. I almost wondered if I really was going crazy, if there was a girl in my head that my mind had made up on it's own like in Stark's case. I wandered around the building, trying not to seem like I was looking for her. If any of the guys found out they'd think I had a "crush". 'Course, I would never tell them why that was impossible.

No, I was honestly just curious. I'd never met someone I could read before. I always knew how to act, what to say to get on peoples last nerve. It was kind of a game of mine, how quickly could I get them to snap? How long would it take before they started grinding their teeth, before they shook with how bad they wanted to hit me?

On the third day, she left her room.

I was on my way to get some breakfast, I'd accidently slept in late and was close to missing it, and happened to pass the common room. Yammy was in front of the TV again, shoving handfuls of chips in his mouth like it was an Olympic sport. Zommari was at the table, mumbling about eyes and how he saw everything. Aaroniero and Szayel were at another table with a chess board in front of them, I couldn't tell if they were actually playing or just waiting to see if it moved on its own if they stared hard enough.

And then there was the girl, number four. She was turned away from everyone else, hands in her pocket staring out the window at God knows what. I stopped in my tracks, knowing full well that I'd regret it when my stomach found out it had to wait for lunch.

Two steps into the common room I paused.

Her back had stiffened, like she knew I was coming and was bracing herself for a conversation she didn't want to have.

I almost laughed at myself. Of course that wasn't the case, this was the _common room._ I could just be coming in to watch TV, or play chess like the other freaks. There was no way she'd know I was gonna talk to her.

Shaking my head a bit, I started walking again. Still, the closer I got the more she seemed to freeze, did she think if she held still long enough I'd go away?

I stopped two feet behind her, waiting for a minute to see if she'd turn around. When she didn't, I got impatient.

"Hey." I sounded more annoyed than I'd planned to be, but then again I usually did. She still hadn't turned around. My mouth twisted downward, I never really liked being ignored, and this was no exception. For the first time, I wondered why I was being so friendly. I'd never introduced myself to the others, at least not officially. Yet here I was, standing behind the newcomer like a kid waiting to find out if the pretty new girl will go to prom with him.

I felt my lips lift into a snarl, I'd be damned if I were the one to walk away with their head down, and grabbed her shoulder.

"What, you deaf?"

She turned then, her eyes snapping to mine the instant they were able to, and it took mine a second to focus.

Large, clear emerald eyes, with a steady gaze.

High cheekbones, and a perfect jaw line.

Twin scars trailing downward in little white tear marks that on anyone else would look like shit.

She wore the same thing everyone else did here, white billowy pants, white undershirt, and a white overcoat with black trim that she'd zipped all the way to her chin. She hadn't made any modifications to it like most of us had, I wondered if she liked it the way it was or if she just didn't have a preference.

But that wasn't what my mind was trying to comprehend.

She was actually a he, not her.

I fought back the urge to shake my head again, but I couldn't stop the words from leaving my mouth.

"You're a dude."

The second they were out I wanted to take them back.

I hated stating the obvious, and if he didn't know, then I wouldn't be wondering why she, uh, he was here anymore.

I waited for him to say something like that, he probably thought I was an idiot, he would laugh any minute now. Just thinking about that, I started to get pissed. He didn't, he just stared without saying anything, blinked once, his face blank.

I pressed my lips into a thin line, ready to turn and leave. Maybe I would still be in time to grab some food. Just as I was about to stalk off, and leave _him_ to his little staring contest, he spun on his heel and quickly glided out of the room.

Slightly dazed, I shoved my hands in my pockets and glanced out the window. What was it that was so interesting out there..?

Just as my stomach started to complain, I scowled and turned away.


End file.
